…so by analysing the blood spatter pattern we can fully determine the directionality of the bullet and in turn, the shooter. The size of the drop also gives great insight into the events of a shooting. There can be big drops, small drops, medium sized drops, oblong drops, round drops, bean-shaped drops, long drips, short drips….
Nick couldn't take much more of Dr. Channing's lesson of the day. As much as he admired the man's intellectual abilities, if he heard about one more kind of blood drop, he might provide an on-stage demonstration of blunt force trauma for the audience to analyze. It was one thing to look at him and a whole other to listen. He was always well dressed. A freshly pressed suit jacket adorned his shoulders and his turquoise dress shirt was just tight enough that you could see the outline of his perfectly formed muscl—Nick snapped back to reality quickly, like he had just been zapped by the keypad at work that always malfunctioned.
…diagonal drips, horizontal drips, vertical drips…
How long could one person name different shapes of blood spatter?! Nick unsuccessfully tried to stay focused on the seminar; thoughts of the previous night kept flooding his mind, and all of the implications that went with it. How could he have let that happen? Did he really want to pursue this, or was it simply the result of being girlfriendless for six months? He felt bad about the way he had left things with Greg; leaving in a rush and ignoring the younger mans inquiries about his upcoming seminars, but he needed time to think. Not everyone could have an encounter like that with another man and take it as well as Greg did with Jason.
A smattering of applause weakly arose from the seminar audience; apparently all the types of blood spatter were accounted for. With nothing to do for the rest of the afternoon, Nick bought a sandwich from the hotel coffee shop and headed up to room one thirty two. He was half way through his roast beef on whole wheat when a card was swiped in the door and it opened. Greg slowly manoeuvred his kit around the door and looked up to meet Nick's eyes. He promptly glanced downwards again. The room filled with silence while Greg put his work things away.
"So, how was your morning session?" Nick asked between mouthfuls.
"I knew you were going to do this!"
"Do what? Eat a roast beef sandwich? Courteously ask you how you day was--?"
"Ignore our situation and pretend like nothing happen!" Greg spun around to face Nick and made eye contact once more, this time returning the gaze as if he hoped to burn holes through Nick's head and into the opposing neighbour's wall.
"Do you think this is easy for me?" Nick exclaimed. "Not all of us are as good at adjusting as you are."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about Jason. You kiss him once and immediately decide, hey I'm bisexual, let's start dating! Some of us like to actually analyze and understand what's going on around us; maybe that's why you're always stuck in the lab!"
"If you think for one minute that that was easy for me, than you don't know shit! How dare you assume things about me that you've never taken the time to understand. With all our witty banter we never touch on anything real, and yet here you are assuming you know me. Because little lab boy Greg has never faced any hardships in his life; he's just there to be the quirky lab tech that never leaves the confines of his lab and experiences the real world. He's the one who makes processing mountains of evidence seem effortless, when he works overtime an average of four out of every five shifts. He's the one covering everybody else's ass when they run to him with a "top priority" case that needs to be wrapped up by the end of the day, as if everyone else in the lab hadn't come to him the minute before and asked the same thing. But hard-working, trustworthy, Greg takes one for the team and agrees because he truly loves his job and believes in the cause that he fights for. Not that he gets anything in return for his efforts, all he gets is a file folder slammed down on his desk by another CSI who thinks it's their god given right to parade around the lab like they own the place and make the rest of us feel like second class citizens and belittles us to a point where we feel we must become CSI's if we are to accomplish anything. Never asked about the years I spent in therapy or about how I haven't seen my parents since the day they found out about Jason and I, but I guess you knew that too." And with that he turned to exit, attempting to slam the door for effect, but was bested by the hydraulics and stomped off in defeat.
Nick stared at the slowly closing door in shock and looked back down at his half-eaten sandwich; suddenly not as hungry as he was before. In spite of the length of time he had known the lab tech he had never seen this side of him. In the lab he would be the first one to play air guitar while waiting for a test to run, in fact he was pretty sure he'd seen it happen. Nick sighed and spread out across the bed that not too long ago contained both him and Greg entwined within each other. He remembered the undeniable feelings which taunted him like kids in a school yard and desperately tried to ignore them hoping that they would lose interest in go away.
--
Greg stormed down the hallway of the hotel trying to get away from everything and had nowhere to go but out. Pushing through the doors of the lobby out onto the street, Greg scanned the streets for a local coffee shop or anywhere he could be alone with his thoughts. He passed a teen wearing a shirt proclaiming that "Some people were just born cool" and silently added to the end, "and this shirt proves I'm not one of them." "When did he become so sarcastic? Was that a bit of his father in him? Ugh, the last thing he wanted to think about was his parents." Greg suddenly veered left into a small shop that had the logo of a monkey on the front sipping a glass of lemonade and sat down at the nearest empty table. The waitress, taking notice of his distress, approached the table cautiously and asked what he wanted.
His coffee was served promptly; and despite the blistering heat outside the warmth soothed him. "How could I have let this happen?! It's Nick. What did I expect his reaction to be? Not that I even did anything! He was the one who initiated." Defeated, he slumped his head into his arms and came to rest on the table with his eyes closed and did not open them again until he felt the presence of someone standing beside him.
"I wasn't even sure if it was you," Nick said as he sat down in the vacant seat beside Greg.
"What are you doing here?" Greg muttered as he placed his head back within his folded arms.
"Isn't this what I'm supposed to do? Chase after you when you're upset."
"You're not supposed to do anything. You're have to want to," Greg mumbled again muffled by his dress shirt sleeve.
"Well, what if I want to." Nick said and then, after taking a deep breath, whispered, "what if I want you?" Greg slowly looked up from the table and met Nick's eyes for the third time that day and searched for truth, only to be matched by a look he hadn't seen in a long time.
"What made you change your mind?" Greg asked, still doubtful of the validity of this confession.
"What makes you think I've ever felt otherwise?"
"The way you freaked out today. All the joking we've done together, none of it ever seemed real, at least not to you."
"I thought a lot about what you said on the plane. About love and how it shouldn't be biased by gender; it makes a lot of sense you know. I guess I've always known deep down that there was more going on between us, but I didn't know how to classify it. Being a scientist, as I'm sure you know, we're used to putting things in categories and making conclusions based the evidence which tells us the answer. Because I like girls too, I must always like girls and no one else."
After taking a moment to register everything that was happening, Greg added "I know what you mean. You are me not too long ago."
